was it
by fiesa
Summary: Was it, was it. So many repetitions of the same refrain. OneShot – Tsunade, Jiraiya, Minato, Kushina, Sakura, Sasuke, Naruto, Kakashi, Rin, Ino, Shikamaru. Five times, five unanswered questions.


**was it**

_Summary: Was it, was it. So many repetitions of the same refrain. OneShot – Tsunade, Jiraiya, Minato, Kushina, Sakura, Sasuke, Naruto, Kakashi, Rin, Ino, Shikamaru. Five times, five unanswered questions._

_Warning: Experimental_

_Set: Story-unrelated_

_Disclaimer: Standards apply. _

* * *

"Was it worth it?"

Naruto glares at Sasuke. Sakura watches them both. Sasuke stares at the trees overhead, his eyes dark and unseeing. Naruto's hand clenches, painfully, narrowing down her world to the tight grip around her hand. She presses back firmly, trying to calm him and reminding him to stay calm at the same time. She can tell it isn't enough. Naruto's hand is cold and shaking slightly, and his entire body is an image of tightly controlled fury.

"Look at her! Look at her, you damn idiot, just open your eyes for once in your life and see what's directly in front of you!"

Sasuke stares at the dark green leaves dancing in the afternoon winds. Hidden Leaves, hidden in the green and gold and red and brown of the summer's last days. If it wasn't so beautiful both of them wouldn't seem so beautiful, either, and yet the emptiness that surrounds them is unyielding. She shivers. Sakura can tell Naruto is close to exploding. She feels tired – so damn tired. Her entire body is numb with exhaustion and something else. The knowledge she will never walk again weights down on her heavily on these days, days full of sunshine and cloudless skies. Sun gleams on the metal applications of her wheelchair.

"It's of no use," Naruto says, looking back at her. He bit his lips – they are red and bloody – and she can see droplets of blood on the ground. The nails of the hand of his that isn't holding hers pierced the flesh of his palm so hard they left distinct marks. His blue eyes show fury – and the same exhaustion she feels. "He never listens. I don't know why you still come to see him."

As it is, this is a question Sakura asks herself again and again. She hasn't come to an answer yet, only knows that she needs to see him. It is as if she has to make sure he is still there, even if a part of him isn't. Was left on the plains of war, somewhere, out there, and his body only returned because a tiny bit of his mind still clings to this place as home. Not Konoha, obviously, but perhaps the Uchiha compounds. So this is where it all has ended: A mad man in an empty house, a tired one in a tower made of paper and expectations, and a young woman in a wheelchair.

"Tell me, Sasuke. Was it worth is?"

Sasuke continues to stare at the sky blindly, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only sign he is alive. Naruto rubs a hand across his face tiredly, then looks down at her.

"Let's go."

The bird's voices follows them through the garden as Naruto pushes her wheelchair to the exit of the Uchiha grounds. Outside, the world seems darker but warmer, more alive. Sakura sighs quietly, strangely relieved and feeling guilty for it. She pushes those thoughts aside.

"Are you free this afternoon, Naruto?"

She can see him from the corner of her eyes. He still is stiff, his entire body a rigid figure of frozen emotions. He doesn't hear her, keeps on pushing her wheelchair with perhaps a little bit too much force.

"Naruto. Stop." Sakura commands, lifts a hand. "Come here."

He obeys her order without question and comes to stand in front of her. Then he frowns and sinks to his knees in order to look her in the eye directly. As he does so, she sees the mask of anger slip away, allowing a glimpse behind the veil he hides his emotions behind: a hurt so deep she feels her heart break again. Like every time, she is hit by the realization that Sasuke's betrayal hurt him far deeper than it has hurt her, ultimately, that his anger at Sasuke's decisions is not only because what it did to her but also because of what it has done to Naruto.

Wordlessly, she wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him close and holds him, and it is as much for him as it is for her.

* * *

"Excuse me…"

He's persistent, Kushina gives him that. He's also good-looking, with dark hair and dark eyes, he's well-built and sports a handsome face. More importantly, he's not a shinobi. Most importantly, she's alone in a bar in a foreign city, waiting for a spy from Ame, and she has no time for this.

Waiting includes a fifth glass of soda, since the bar keeper refuses to let her stay if she doesn't pay, as well as the rather annoying company of the one species of human beings she does not want to associate with right now _at all_ – not ever again, if it has anything to do with her. A broken heart might weight heavy but it is she alone who is at fault. So she swallows tears, shame and hurt and tries not to glare. Nevertheless, the last bit of her dignity goes south when the man tries to pick not only on her but on a woman a bit further down the bar simultaneously.

_He's the damn Hokage, get over it._

"Get lost."

So far out of her league it hurts physically to think of it. Kushina grits her teeth and sits and waits. Her contact appears two hours later. A brief and unsatisfying exchange takes place and then she's on her way back to her little room again.

Every instinct of hers screams something is wrong when she climbs the stairs to the apartment complex. She grips her kunai tighter. And then the lights come on, bright and blinding, a scream sounds which wakes every living being on the floor. An old woman, perhaps seventy years old, in her night gown, her hair held in pin curlers, is brandishing a pan at a cloaked figure on the staircase landing. A dull sound indicates she has hit home. The shadowed figure goes down with a groan. The lady screams bloody murder.

"Burglar, murderer, terrorist! Whom are you waiting for, hidden on the stairs like a pervert! Just you wait, in this house you won't kidnap young women, we have our own ways of dealing with the likes of you! I called the police already, you, you, don't you _dare_!"

Every door in the corridor flies open as the lady's frying pan hits home a second time with a ringing sound. The good woman, panting and furious, throws a glance at Kushina over her shoulder. "Are you alright, Dear? He didn't get you? I saw him lurking on the stairs, must have waited for you to come home in order to make a grab for you, I read in the papers this happened in this area last week. The scum must have moved bases, unbelievable… What's the Police waiting for?"

The cloaked figure on the ground groans something and Kushina crouches down to uncover his features with a sinking feeling, her mind reeling and her mouth still trying to convince the lady she is fine.

"What the hell…"

Minato smiles back at her rather painfully. "I need to talk to you."

She wants to tell him he is the _goddamn_ Hokage, he can't leave Konoha just like that to come to _talk_ to her – and without bringing at least one ANBU! – he is the hero of Hidden Leaf, he can't lurk around in run-down apartment buildings to wait for people – and he can't come after _her_, specifically. But it hurts even to look at him, so she turns away and starts to convince the people everything is fine.

Ten minutes later, she has a still-bedraggled Minato sitting on her bed, a bag of frozen soy-beans on the bump on his head, and is studiously avoiding his eyes. He is making it a hard job, trying to catch her eyes the harder she tries to look away.

"Seems like I made a pretty fool out of myself."

"You are one."

"Because I love you?"

"Because you want me to be with you."

The faster and harder she answers, she reckons, the faster this will be over. Perhaps she'll hurt him enough to leave for good. But he gets up instead, follows her to the window. Trying very hard to catch her glance, and she avoids it. She regrets it a second later, because he wraps his arms around her.

"Why are you so sad?"

He's an idiot, and his voice is soft and his face without any defense and she knows she shouldn't have looked at him. Every damn thing, every single thought she ever had pours from her the second she looks him in the eye. She is a damn watergate and he has opened the flood gates – she is unable to stop herself. How much she loves him, how much she wants to be with him – and why he can't, never. Why she can't let this happen not even if he comes begging and making a fool of himself like this. Because she knows he will always be Hokage first and Minato second, and she can't ask more of him.

Minato listens, and breathes, and holds her, and waits until she has calmed and her arms have wrapped themselves around him by their own volition. She has cried into his shirt, it is damp and cold, but it is Minato's scent and Minato's strength and Minato's warmth.

"I shouldn't need to tell you how much I love you," he says quietly. "And I'll always be the man who loves you, no matter what people call me. I came here today and made a fool of myself. Was it enough to change your mind?"

It shouldn't have been, but she couldn't help herself.

* * *

Her hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves.

It is usually then Kakashi realizes he is dreaming, because the Rin he once knew had short hair, almost shoulder-length, and she refused both to cut it shorter and to let it grow. Arguments always escalated when he hinted at her that her hair was impractical, that she needed to tie it back or cut it short. She always glared at him and told him it was too short to wear it in a ponytail and she wouldn't cut it, thanks a lot. And then Obito usually butted in and yelled at him that her hair was beautiful, and that Rin was perfect. Or something like that. They either ended up on the ground, exchanging blows (he was much younger then, not a jounin yet) or on the opposite sides of Minato-Sensei. Who gave them a good verbal spanking and then proceeded to grind his words into their brains by letting them do one or another senseless, tiring, and _incredibly _boring, job.

Kakashi never tells her she is beautiful. It is Obito's part of the job. Kakashi keeps them on their toes, and Obito tries to out-do him, and Rin makes peace.

"Was it the right thing to do?"

He never asked it before. It is something neither one of them does – talk about the past. Think about it, even. The past is the past. Obito should be dead. Minato-Sensei is dead. The moon shines through the window; Rin's hair is a silvery halo of silk. Her skin is soft and scarred; her hands calloused and rough. She _i__s_ beautiful. Always was. Kakashi wonders why he never told her before. Then he remembers it is Obito's job to do so.

"It's been five years," she finally answers. "And twenty-five."

There is no contradiction in her words. She is simply referring to different events – two events connected through time and fate, two events that changed the history of Hidden Leaf and with it their own history. Rin rights herself, the T-shirt she wears (one of his, far too big for her) slipping from one cream-white shoulder. A faint scar becomes visible, as well, and Kakashi recalls with startling clarity where she got it from. She props herself up on one elbow, turning towards him, and now shadows obscure her face. He still drinks in her features, follows the the lines of her face with his eyes. She has aged, but aged well. In fact, she is prettier today than she ever was before.

"There are always two sides," she begins slowly. "You can look at history from the one side or the other."

"You've been thinking of it."

"For twenty-five years. Haven't you?"

Her question is purely rhetorical.

"From the viewpoint of the village, it was the right thing," she said, her eyes glazing over. "Madara was influencing him. He was a threat."

"And the other viewpoint?"

"He was our friend." There is so much sadness in her voice as she uses the past tense that Kakashi instinctively reaches out to touch her. "Anyway, right or wrong decision, we didn't _do_ it right the last time."

The air in his room grows colder despite the fact that her hand is resting on his, which in return is resting on her cheek.

"So this time we kill him?"

"And Sasuke. Before they re-awaken Madara again. It's what has to be done. For Hidden Leaf, Kakashi, and for Naruto and Sakura." Her hands ghosts over his face. Kakashi closes his eyes. "And for you, Kakashi."

He speaks without opening his eyes. "What about you? You love him."

"What about Sakura?"

He opens his eyes again. "She loved Sasuke. And she saw what he did to Naruto. I think she's finally ready to move on."

"After just six years?"

"Just?"

"Oh Kakashi. Why do you understand others so well but not yourself? I'm _here_, right now, and you still don't see it?"

He stays very, very still. Rin smiles – carefully, as if she is afraid something will break. He might break, he thinks, because Rin is warm and beautiful and _there_, and no matter how much he loves Obito Obito loves her, as well. And he is alive but Obito is, too, in a matter of speaking. And there is no question as to who of them is the better man. Obito might have betrayed the village, but still he fights for peace and Rin's happiness while the only thing Kakashi fights for is to stay alive and to keep her alive. There is no way, no way in hell…

"I love you," she whispers, her lips very close to his. Her hand is warm on his face. "Kakashi, I love Obito, but I can see what he does to you. What Sasule is doing. Sakura can see it, too, maybe that's the reason both of us can finally be honest. It's horrible, a terrible thing. It is cruel that it repeats itself in every generation. But what they do – Sasuke and Obito – is wrong. They have to be stopped. They have to be killed, both of them, because they're lost in the darkness too much to ever bring them back. No hiding anymore, no plotting and lying. No deception. I'm sick of it, sick of not being able to see you. Sick of lying. We will end this. We'll go to the meeting place tomorrow and we'll kill them, and you won't lose me, I promise. I swear, Kakashi. So please…"

He never gets to know what she begs of him because her face is so close and she is so beautiful he kisses her. Her lips are soft. Rin is warm and alive, and for the first time in many, many years, Kakashi allows himself to stop thinking.

He's been living a dream, he knows, but he also knows waking up will be very, very painful.

* * *

She waits for him at the gates. Her blond hair shines in the evening light.

Shikamaru falls into step beside her and Ino leads the way. It is familiar, their interaction: No greeting except for a nod, a light in her eye and the ghost of a smile. Even the silence is familiar. It is easier to admit he missed her, now that he is back, easier to see what she means to him. But then, he missed the trees and the wind and the rain, too, and they are as much a part of Hidden Leaf as Ino is. So perhaps it is for that reason.

When they reach the intersection that leads to the main house, she stops.

"You need to report back right now?"

Ino's voice still sounds the way it has when he left. Shikamaru shakes his head.

"So?" She leaves him to decide. Instead of answering he continues on and this time she follows behind him until she has caught up. In a silence that might have been companionable if it hadn't been loaded with history they walk down the streets, turn right behind the Academy and cross the invisible line between the training grounds and the Nara woods. Shikamaru wonders whether it was easier to talk to her before he left. Or maybe it was just easier to be silent with her before... The trees' shadows are cool. He has missed shadows. He had missed the trees.

Chouji and he had a hill to watch the clouds. Ino had always known about their favorite spot, of course, had come often enough to drag them down to the training grounds. The place he leads her to is their place, a little clearing in the woods: blue sky, silvery leaves, and the tree's whispers like a song.

"Was it the way you expected it to be?"

Ino finally breaks the silence, her voice is soft. She doesn't look at him. Her shoulder-length hair falls over her face, obscuring her features like a silver curtain. Shikamaru contemplates the question, their wording, her silence. His possible answers.

"It's over."

Ino sucks in a deep breath, clearly surprised.

"I thought you asked her to marry you?"

"I did."

She doesn't say anything at that.

"Then, she told me she wasn't the marrying type."

"Oh."

She could have said _I'm sorry._ She doesn't, because it is an empty phrase. There is so much more to be said but neither one of them would do it. So both keep quiet. Ino combs her hand through green stems of grass as her hair covers her face like a veil, and Shikamaru tries to read her expression and fails again and again.

"So she broke up with you?"

"No."

"Aha."

And Shikamaru knows she understands, because Ino is his best friend and she knows him. And his heart is sore and broken and he is still trying to put it back together, but Ino didn't ask and didn't say anything else. So he leans back in the familiar silence of the familiar woods, with her familiar presence beside him, and tries to breathe. When it starts to get dark Ino moves, for the first time in a long time. She's always been able to be so still he sometimes wondered whether she still was there.

"I have to get back."

Her outstreched hand hovers before him. For a second, Shikamaru contemplates to just stay where he is and never come back.

"Come on, Shikamaru."

She never called him Shika. It was Temari's nickname for him and Temari's alone. For some reason, he is grateful.

He lets her pull him up and follows her back to Hidden Leaf.

* * *

"Was it wrong?"

"What?"

"To love you?"

"Jiraiya…"

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Age has forced lines into his face, signs of sorrow and laughter she never has allowed herself to show on the outside. On the inside, she imagines, she probably looks even worse than him.

"Because I don't think I made a mistake. Not really. I mean, you loved – love – Dan – and you've seen him and talked to him and reconciled, perhaps. And I know you never saw me like that. But do you think it was wrong? Stupidly, idiotically, typically-Jiraiya-pervert-edly wrong?"

"I don't think we should talk about this now."

"On the contrary, what better time would there be? Remember, I am dead already. Tsunade? Oh, Heavens, Tsunade-hime, don't cry."

Tsunade turns away abruptly. "I'm not."

He lifts both hands in a defensive gesture which, somehow, seems terribly awkward. He scratches his head. Looks at his hands.

"Listen. I didn't mean to make this difficult for you. I guess I just wanted to say it. Because… I don't think it was. Wrong, I mean. You were the best thing there was in my life."

Tsunade looks up right in time to see him smile.

"You can seal me away for all eternity now."

"Jiraiya…"

"I know." Suddenly his frown is gone, the lines in his face, the wrinkles of laughter around his eyes. It was as if years have been put down along with a mask. He looks just the way he was when they were kids. Smiling, laughing, plotting nonsense and getting caught. Her Jiraiya, always and forever. "I know, Hime. Always knew. Do it now."

His voice still rings in her ears after she has finished sealing his unwillingly revived body into the scroll her shinobi supplied her with.

"You know nothing, you idiot," she tells the sky.

Was it, was it. So many questions. She wishes she could have given him the one answer he wanted to hear. But there are too many of them. She'll have to take them to her grave. As it is, she doesn't want to hand them over to her successor. Because Naruto already has his own answers and his own questions.

But then, doesn't everyone?


End file.
